Young Hearts Run Free
by JazzyLittleMonster
Summary: CoxJordan. In their youth. A howtheycouldhave met for the first time. Exploring a younger, less lifehardened version of both of them.


_Author's Note:_

_I noticed a lack of Cox/Jordan fic, so I'm throwing one out there. If anyone knows where I can find some/lots of good Cox/Jordan fic, please let me know. I love these two._

_This is a possible-how-they-could-have-met scenario. I could easily extend this into mulitple chapters, were it not for my extraordinary lack of time. So I suspect this will just be a oneshot. The story is set 4 months after Perry Cox joins Sacred Heart as an intern. The setting is a fundraising ball thrown by the hospital and the Board._

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except a few minor OCs._

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Young Hearts Run Free

Perry's first Annual Sacred Heart Charitable Committee Ball was going surprisingly well. He'd just been introduced to Quinn Sullivan, an old filthy rich Board member of alleged importance who almost peed his pants with exhuberance as he patted him heavily on the back and congratulated him on the "good things" he'd been hearing (from the Furher himself, Bob Kelso, no doubt; but still, he had only been a medical intern at Sacred Heart for four months and already he was making an impression). Perry congratulated himself. He was here in a smart new suit, the shirt just tight enough to do justice to his nicely developing abs. He was the hottest young piece of intern meat in Sacred Heart. And he was here with Celeste, his almost-girlfriend, a knock-out female intern with great boobs and perfect teeth. She wiggled her fingers at him in a flirty wave as he stepped up to the bar to order their drinks.

"Two vodka martinis," the elderly bar man nodded. "Thanks, Alfred." Perry chuckled to himself.

"Uh, my name is Herbert..." confusion swept across the poor man's face.

"Well, Herbert, you might wana take a look in the mirror because NEWSFLASH! you bear a STRIKING resemblance to Bruce Wayne's kindly butler. And that's just the kind of shit that life deals you. Learn to love it, Alfred. Embrace yourself."

Perry's grin spread as the man's eyebrows knotted in perplexion. Next to him, a female laugh made him jolt and shiver. He turned and looked right into the twinkling eyes of a girl with a wicked grin in a killer red dress.

"I'm Perry Cox." His hand shot out like a reflex. She didn't take it, but smiled. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears.

The girl's grin widened languidly and she appraised him with her eyes over the rim of her glass; a Bloody Mary. He knew he was doing the same to her but her intensity made him want to squirm. He clenched a bit, flexing his newly toned abs and hoping she noticed.

"That's a funny name." She said eventually. "Can I call you Per?"

"No" His abs drooped in shame.

"But I knew it anyway. I followed you here."

"Oh" was all that came out of his mouth.

"You were speaking to my father. You know, Mr Big Board Executive. Thinks the sun shines out of your ass apparently."

"Oh, it does." Perry grinned; mostly in triumph at managing a response more charming than "Oh".

She raised one perfectly defined eyebrow.

"We'll see." She said. Alfred returned, muttering, with the martinis.

"They're on me. Put them on my tab." She said authoritatively. "Alfred." She added, flashing Perry an inclusive grin that made him feel like a little boy.

"Are you..."

"Of course I'm sure, Per." she said. He almost said thank you, but stopped himself, because it felt cooler to say nothing. Instead he said,

"I believe I said a firm 'no' to 'Per'," which she seemed to ignore. Alfred bustled off. He really did look alarmingly like Alfred.

The girl fixed her dark eyes on his,

"I'm Jordan. Jordan Sullivan...obviously..." she trailed off and laughed a little, looking suddenly vulnerable for the first time. Perry's heart skipped.

"My pleasure, Jordan" He took her hand this time, without waiting for her to offer it and not giving her the choice not to accept, and squeezed lightly.

"Hey, by the by; why did you follow me?"

She laughed guiltily and mischievously like a schoolgirl in trouble for playing a prank,

"Because I decided I wanted to dance with you."

She leaned closer, along the bar, resting her palm on the arm of his suit jacket. Her perfume was heady, spicy and flowery.

"Come dance with me, Per."

Perry's sense of human decency gained a brief moment of control over the natural force that seemed to be pulling them together like an orbit.

"Actually I'm here with my, er, girlfriend. I'm sorry."

He expected disappointment but her expression barely changed; if anything she became more inticing.

"So?"

"She's waiting for me to come back with these drinks." Jordan downed the last of her glass and then downed his and Celeste's untouched vodka martinis.

"Not anymore. Come dance with me."

"I shouldn't dance with you..." Her hand slipped into his and she started pulling him towards the dancefloor,

"But you're going to, aren't you?" She looked up at him through spiky bangs. For the second time since he'd met her she was just a little bit vulnerable. Something deep inside him acknowledged right then that that would be his downfall.

"Yes. I am." He said. They were looking into each other's eyes again but this time neither was smiling.

She led him to the dancefloor and coiled herself around him, tucking her head just under his chin, where it fitted. He inhaled her again, discovering the slightly different scent of her hair to that of her perfume, and stroked her hips through sheer red satin appreciatively as they swayed in an elegantly-clumsy and very sexy tango of their own.


End file.
